Lemm is still barely withholding something, evident in the discomfited way he begins agitatedly ticking the end of the crowbar against his leg like there has to be some small outlet somewhere. He keeps a lid on whatever it is.

"S'not heavy."

Not heavy-heavy, anyway. He can carry it. That's not what they're asking, maybe? Ah, no, they can carry, it's an offer.

Lemm glances at the hat rack. Then at their hand, huge and pointy and nothing like the small paw he's held on multiple occasions. Several things run through his head: making them deliver something they have no business delivering, the shop as it stands, the turbulent whatever going on in his head, and most importantly the Knight with an apparently broken mask on their way to get it fixed and then on sibling business and...

He shifts, slightly.

"Don't you have more important things to be doing," says Lemm, in a small and weirdly conscious way.